


A Good Man

by Mspunkopera



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 06:17:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mspunkopera/pseuds/Mspunkopera
Summary: Tony Stark was a flawed man. He made mistakes, of all sizes and severities. But one thing Tony Stark always, always was, was human. In all of its imperfections. He was beautifully, heartbreakingly, inspiringly human.And the world deserved to know.





	A Good Man

A monument is built after Tony Stark’s death. They put it in New York, of course. It couldn’t be anywhere else. He fought for the whole planet, for the whole universe, but New York was his. New York he saved first.

It took a while to plan: artists and architects and engineers all brought their plans and ideas, and the people in charge brought theirs too. Some of them thought it should reflect Tony as he appeared to the public—Tony as _they_ knew him. Something enormous, and grandiose; something showy, that put him on the same pedestal everyone always had during his lifetime.

But some of them, those who truly knew him, knew it needed to be something else. Something more.

The remaining—and new—Avengers were consulted, along with all those who knew him personally; some tactful pressure was applied in the right places, and finally one day the plans were finalized. A few years later, and it was complete.

It was a massive circle made of light, polished marble. Tall and wide, when viewed from the sky, detailing on the floor of the circle formed the shape of his arc reactor, with an entrance at the top and the bottom of the shape—nothing grand, no gates. Just a simple break in the wall, big enough to get a vehicle through if need be.

Who knew, anymore.

Halfway up those walls was a walkway on both sides, with steps at the each end. It allowed the circle to remain a continuous loop, the visitor always moving forward and never having to go backward.

The walkway was necessary: every inch of those walls were covered in names. Much like the Vietnam memorial in DC, names had been submitted to the designers. As many names as they could collect by the time the deadline hit, and they’d tried their best to get everyone. That was why it was just so damn _big._

They couldn’t list the entire universe. Humanity as a people _still_ didn’t know what was out there in its farthest reaches; hell, they didn’t know exactly what lay in the farthest reaches of their own galaxy.

But they could list the humans. The people _they_ knew who had died at Thanos’ snap, people that were loved, people that were mourned. Women, men, children, the elderly.

The ones who had been saved when it had been reversed.

The outside of the circle was a tribute to Tony’s own life. Things he had invented, battles he fought, like blurbs in a museum (there were plans for that, too). More lives saved, because Tony was brilliant. Proof of the redemption he’d sought so avidly for so long.

But as humbling as that long, long list of names was, and as awe-inspiring as his achievements were, none of those things were the most impactful part of the monument, and all of them lost their meaning without what stood at the center.

_There_ was Tony Stark.

You could see him from both entrances: you either saw his back, or his bent head as you came in.

He wasn’t larger than life. He wasn’t standing in some victory pose, he wasn’t surrounded by women or wearing medals or brandishing awards.

Tony stood there in bronze at his own height. He wore the suit, yes, but the helmet sat at his feet. His hands were bare. And in his hands was his beloved Earth.

That was the one science-y, tech-y concession that was made: the Earth didn’t just sit there in his hands, static; it floated. It revolved on its axis just like its larger self. And as the seasons changed, it leaned into, and away from, Tony’s face just like their planet did its sun.

Tony Stark stood there watching over their planet just as he always had. Not as Iron Man, but as _a_ man. In the middle of all those names, built up by the achievements on the outside, at its very heart Tony was all there was. A remarkable person, a bleeding heart. Physically average but unimaginably kind.

Iron Man was a suit. The suit was a tool.

The most important thing about Tony Stark was his humanity, and that’s what his friends wanted remembered.

Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.


End file.
